- "A Thrall? He's not even a man anymore! He doesn't have his will, he's just a soul trapped in a body controlled by you. There is no allegiance sworn here, just you pulling his strings! One way or the other,The Pale will liberate him!"
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The ambassador shouted at the Paleman.
"While your wishes seem with noble intent, I fear they have to wait, considering more urgent matters seem to force themselves upon us... " He looked at the Archmage's gruesome apparition unfolding before their eyes.
"While your wishes seem with noble intent, I fear they have to wait, considering more urgent matters seem to force themselves upon us... " He looked at the Archmage's gruesome apparition unfolding before their eyes.
The Last Assembly
Part III
Part III
Fifteenth of First Seed
"The Krestarii send their regards..." whispered a voice as a Lord sunk a blade deep into Ra'Gru's back. The Orc howled in what was first deemed as pain, but soon became laughter. Ra'Gru grabbed the assailant, placed a hand over his face and threw him across the room. "You wish Knapsen free?" Roared the Orc. "So be it!" The claws of the Orc ripped the head from the skeletal thrall of Knapsen to the hissing laughter of Qylan.
The entire hall began to tremble and shake as the other-worldly laughter of the creature that had once been Qylan the Houseless emitted past it's salivating jaws. Ra'Gru's pale green skin began to drain of all colour and the man became like a shadow, a twisting cloud of Dark with piercing eyes. The seemingly frail body of the sickly Zephfer suddenly stood strong and menacing with Dark erupting from his fingertips.
With a great rumble, the roof of the great hall collapsed, chunks of stone crushing the unfortunate few unable to move away. Shadows began to drift down from the opening in the roof, twisted monsters that wore the tattered rags of Acolytes of the Order of Light. The monsters formed a defensive line around the Dark Dragon that was once Qylan and his followers, attacking the Lords of Light with great ferocity.
Rushing out of the shadows, with a sword in hand, ran Mathlion, straight for the dragon form of Qylan.
"How long since the Dark One bought you?!" Hollered Mathlion as he skewered a fallen acolyte that had moved to block him from the dragon.
The long neck of the Qylan twisted around to face Mathlion running at him from behind, his barbed tail whipping at the steward.
"Fool!" Hissed the dragon. "Light is weak and no more, it is the Dark that will save and unite the realm!"
Mathlion turned the swinging tail of the dragon with the edge of his sword, Qylan screamed in pain and with a mighty flap of his wings, now faced the High Steward. A pulse of light flashed from Mathlion's hand, and singed into the body of Qylan. The dragon only cocked its head to the side in puzzled amusement. Taking Mathlion in his mighty claws, the dragon laughed.
"Are we not brothers in all things, save blood?" Hissed the dragon before it's jaws tore the face from the High Steward. His tortured screams rang through the Assembly as the battle raged in the hall. Mathlion's scream was soon silenced with the snap of his neck, and his lifeless body tossed across the hall.
Zephfer, and Ra'Gru commanded the monsters with amazing efficiency and most of the Lords of Light and their ambassador's now lay dead.
Huddled in a corner, before a mass of dead monsters, the surviving Lords of Light prepared for their last stand. Gerald of Westelli raised his hand to the Dark Lord's, sparks of Light erupting from his fingertips. "It has been an honour fighting alongside you all in this, our last hour."
Suddenly, just as Qylan began to charge the survivors, the chamber door erupted into splinters. City Watch, household guards and Swornswords of the Lords of Light charged into the Assembly. Leading them was Captain Jacob, with a large Wild Chieftain branding a heavy axe. What monsters were left were slayed by the company.
The Dragon hissed as he fell back with the Dark Lords. After a flourish of blows from Jacob's sword and Light. "You have merely delayed the inevitable... The Dark One's time has come." In a cloud of Dark, the forms of the Dragon, Ra'Gru and Zephfer dissipated into nothingness.
As the survivors survey the crumbled remains of the Assembly, a hidden passage is found with a stockpile of Seeing Stones, enough for one for every province.
The Follower's of the Dark have retreated from the Golden City!
Zephfer and Ra'Gru still control Armies in Hroniden, armies that may be unaware of the events of the Assembly!
All Players Hold A Seeing Stone!
The Golden Army has been scattered from the dragon attack and may not be reformed for some time!
((Zex and Sneaky have now been given a province in the West, land which will not be revealed to the Lords of Light. Players may now submit orders. Your top priorities should include...
Earning Prestige
Fortifying the Wilds as a line of Defense
Cleansing/corrupting the Light Basin
Player Quests may not be interfered with by players of the other schools of magic. However, I will propose quests from time to time that both sides may fight over.
Players will have a couple days to complete an IC of the battle and submit orders for this turn.
I shall also be creating some Dark NPCs before the end of the turn to flesh out the West and give Sneaky and Zex some allies to interact with. As of now all players may interact through the Stones...))
Zephfer and Ra'Gru still control Armies in Hroniden, armies that may be unaware of the events of the Assembly!
All Players Hold A Seeing Stone!
The Golden Army has been scattered from the dragon attack and may not be reformed for some time!
((Zex and Sneaky have now been given a province in the West, land which will not be revealed to the Lords of Light. Players may now submit orders. Your top priorities should include...
Earning Prestige
Fortifying the Wilds as a line of Defense
Cleansing/corrupting the Light Basin
Player Quests may not be interfered with by players of the other schools of magic. However, I will propose quests from time to time that both sides may fight over.
Players will have a couple days to complete an IC of the battle and submit orders for this turn.
I shall also be creating some Dark NPCs before the end of the turn to flesh out the West and give Sneaky and Zex some allies to interact with. As of now all players may interact through the Stones...))
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Armas didn’t know what had happened. One minute he was arguing with the ArchMage, trying to make him see reason, the next he was laying here. What was odd was how cold it was.
Why was it so cold?
Armas tried to stand, he had to fight, the ArchMage couldn’t be allowed to win, not now.
Why can’t I move?
Armas turned his head, it was more difficult than he expected.
Why is everything so difficult?
Then he saw it, sitting on top of him, tons of rock from the roof that had collapsed, crushing his body. Armas lowered his head to the marble floor, into a pool of his own blood.
But I didn’t even get to fight. I studied all of this magic to die here never using it? What is the point if it ends like this?
Aemas tried to take a breath, but found that he couldn’t. The Light was slipping away; he could feel it leaving him with every drop of blood.
I can’t die here, not like this. What about Nienna ... Linwë ... Elessar. What will they do? What about Larien, I always thought I would get to say goodbye.
Armas felt something begin to run down his face, he knew that it wasn’t blood this time. Armas tapped into the Light inside and called all of his remaining energy to him. With it he cast one final spell.
I love you all…
As his life left him, a streak of light escaped Armas’s body and exited through the newly destroyed roof, floating up into the sky.
Larien sat on the Throne of the Forest reading the latest reports on trade in Coamenel. With Krestarii releasing his slaves, trade was to be opened up with his city. The newly freed slaves would need help finding places to live and work the chaos in Mirrorwater and Mountainshadow would only add to the pandemonium. Larien loved it. The figures, the laws, the complicated agreements, they all added different layers to the challenge of running the realm, and if there was one thing she loved it was a challenge.
Larien had been studying the figures and setting trade policies for hours with the help of the steward and decided she needed a break.
“I am going to retire to my quarters for a while; I trust that you can deal with everything from here?”
“Of course Mistress, go rest”
Larien got up from the throne and walked down the hallway to her study. Drawing the key from her necklace she quickly opened the door and went inside, being sure to lock it before turning around. No one, not even Armas went into her study. She quickly went over to her desk, opened a large old tome, and began studying.
Ever since Armas had told her about magic returning she had been studying it with the same passion that she did everything else. Of course, she didn’t tell anyone about this pursuit. Many were slow to trust magic because of the actions of the nords, even if it was so closely tied to elven culture and spirituality. Armas had been studying magic as well, but it had been more of a hobby for him, something to pass the time that he found interesting. He didn’t have the time to commit to it like she did, between ruling the realm, leading armies, and arguing in the Assembly, and so the task fell to Larien to ensure the Coamenel family could counter the evils of dark magic.
Larien was deep in thought over an extremely difficult spell and how it could be applied when she noticed that something was off. Looking up from her tome, she saw what it was. A small butterfly sat on the windowsill, but it was something more than that. Larien stood up and walked over to the butterfly, wondering how it had even gotten into the room in the first place. As she walked nearer it flapped its wings and took flight, landing on her outstretched hand. When it touched her bare skin, Larien realized that it wasn’t a butterfly at all, it was Armas. Or what was left of him anyway, she had spent enough time with her husband to recognize his Light, and this was it.
Larien collapsed to the ground sobbing as the butterfly faded from existence. Her husband was dead, something must have gone wrong with the peace talks, or maybe another lord had decided to betray them, who knew. All that mattered was that Armas was dead and Larien was alone.
The next day Larien woke up on the floor of her study, her face still wet with tears. She couldn’t do this, not now, not when everything was falling apart. She had to be strong and lead the people of Coamenel and hope that she could fill her husband’s shoes. Standing up, Larien looked to the window where the butterfly had been. Drawn in the dust was a simple heart, a message of Armas’s love and the faith he had in his wife. Larien took a breath and steeled herself, she would be worthy of that faith and love.
Larien left her study, making sure to lock the door on her way out and walked quickly into the main hall. The steward was there, working on the papers from the night before.
“Stop that, there are more pressing issues that need to be dealt with. Take a note and send this out to the vassals of the realm and other lords of Agorath.”
"Touch it up however you want to make it acceptable as coming from a lady. I have to go speak to my children about Armas."
With that Larien left the room, leaving the steward more than a little confused.
Why was it so cold?
Armas tried to stand, he had to fight, the ArchMage couldn’t be allowed to win, not now.
Why can’t I move?
Armas turned his head, it was more difficult than he expected.
Why is everything so difficult?
Then he saw it, sitting on top of him, tons of rock from the roof that had collapsed, crushing his body. Armas lowered his head to the marble floor, into a pool of his own blood.
But I didn’t even get to fight. I studied all of this magic to die here never using it? What is the point if it ends like this?
Aemas tried to take a breath, but found that he couldn’t. The Light was slipping away; he could feel it leaving him with every drop of blood.
I can’t die here, not like this. What about Nienna ... Linwë ... Elessar. What will they do? What about Larien, I always thought I would get to say goodbye.
Armas felt something begin to run down his face, he knew that it wasn’t blood this time. Armas tapped into the Light inside and called all of his remaining energy to him. With it he cast one final spell.
I love you all…
As his life left him, a streak of light escaped Armas’s body and exited through the newly destroyed roof, floating up into the sky.
Larien sat on the Throne of the Forest reading the latest reports on trade in Coamenel. With Krestarii releasing his slaves, trade was to be opened up with his city. The newly freed slaves would need help finding places to live and work the chaos in Mirrorwater and Mountainshadow would only add to the pandemonium. Larien loved it. The figures, the laws, the complicated agreements, they all added different layers to the challenge of running the realm, and if there was one thing she loved it was a challenge.
Larien had been studying the figures and setting trade policies for hours with the help of the steward and decided she needed a break.
“I am going to retire to my quarters for a while; I trust that you can deal with everything from here?”
“Of course Mistress, go rest”
Larien got up from the throne and walked down the hallway to her study. Drawing the key from her necklace she quickly opened the door and went inside, being sure to lock it before turning around. No one, not even Armas went into her study. She quickly went over to her desk, opened a large old tome, and began studying.
Ever since Armas had told her about magic returning she had been studying it with the same passion that she did everything else. Of course, she didn’t tell anyone about this pursuit. Many were slow to trust magic because of the actions of the nords, even if it was so closely tied to elven culture and spirituality. Armas had been studying magic as well, but it had been more of a hobby for him, something to pass the time that he found interesting. He didn’t have the time to commit to it like she did, between ruling the realm, leading armies, and arguing in the Assembly, and so the task fell to Larien to ensure the Coamenel family could counter the evils of dark magic.
Larien was deep in thought over an extremely difficult spell and how it could be applied when she noticed that something was off. Looking up from her tome, she saw what it was. A small butterfly sat on the windowsill, but it was something more than that. Larien stood up and walked over to the butterfly, wondering how it had even gotten into the room in the first place. As she walked nearer it flapped its wings and took flight, landing on her outstretched hand. When it touched her bare skin, Larien realized that it wasn’t a butterfly at all, it was Armas. Or what was left of him anyway, she had spent enough time with her husband to recognize his Light, and this was it.
Larien collapsed to the ground sobbing as the butterfly faded from existence. Her husband was dead, something must have gone wrong with the peace talks, or maybe another lord had decided to betray them, who knew. All that mattered was that Armas was dead and Larien was alone.
The next day Larien woke up on the floor of her study, her face still wet with tears. She couldn’t do this, not now, not when everything was falling apart. She had to be strong and lead the people of Coamenel and hope that she could fill her husband’s shoes. Standing up, Larien looked to the window where the butterfly had been. Drawn in the dust was a simple heart, a message of Armas’s love and the faith he had in his wife. Larien took a breath and steeled herself, she would be worthy of that faith and love.
Larien left her study, making sure to lock the door on her way out and walked quickly into the main hall. The steward was there, working on the papers from the night before.
“Stop that, there are more pressing issues that need to be dealt with. Take a note and send this out to the vassals of the realm and other lords of Agorath.”
"Touch it up however you want to make it acceptable as coming from a lady. I have to go speak to my children about Armas."
With that Larien left the room, leaving the steward more than a little confused.
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The Death of Graf Gunther von Saxon, the Third of His Name
Count Gunther von Saxon was suddenly crushed to the ground under the weight of many stones. Time seemed to slow and it gave Gunther time to think.
So this is the day I die. Alas I did not get to run that elf through with my blade, but I did stand up to the bastard. Wotan never really gave me enough wisdom anyways.
Darkness was enveloping Gunther when he looked over and saw the still form of Armas of Coamenel.
“So it looks like we are dying together you old bastard. Oh you are already dead, huh? That’s a shame.” Gunther mumbled.
So I die Graf Gunther von Saxon III, maybe I will get a name, something like Graf Gunther the Brave or Graf Gunther the Wise. No, Wise will not be my moniker. But enough of my name, it doesn’t matter. What about Wilhelm and Johanna? Wilhelm, he is going to have to be Graf now. Wotan guide the poor boy. Johanna, she will hardly be able to do anything for weeks. If only I could say goodbye. That would make everything better.
Gunther looked up and saw what he thought was the face of death. Unlike what he had expected it was not a demonic and evil face. It was a kind and welcoming face, with a raven perched on it. Gunther smiled.
So this is death. He seems more like an old friend than anything else. Wilhelm would like that raven.
In Gunther’s head, he heard the words of death, a warm old man speaking over the roar of the hearth. “Graf Gunther von Saxon it is time.”
Ah hello my friend, call me Gunther. I have a question before I go.
“And what is that my friend?”
Is Asharian dead?
“Maybe you shall see. I am not a messenger, I am a fetcher. Wotan sends me to bring the souls of the dead to his realm.”
Excellent, so I will be going to see the Raven-God?
“According to the lore of the Saxons.”
Gunther took one last look and saw Asharian Krestarii alive. He smiled at Asharian as life fled his body. Graf Gunther von Saxon had met death with a smile on his face.
"Look, another body over here!"
"Oh gosh, I hope he isn't dead."
"Whatever. It's another body to send to his family."
"I don't think he's still alive."
Asad gets up, confused as to what happened.
"Ugh, what the hell happened?"
The other men look surprised, as though they had seen a ghost. One of them regains his composure and answers Asad.
"Looks like you got knocked out by some debris".
The last thing Asad remembers was the Assembly was crumbling. He also felt a golden aura around his body ...
"Strike me."
"What?"
"Strike me with a knife."
"Wh--Why?"
"I've got a feeling that I have something within me ..."
The man strikes with the knife. A glowing aura forms around his hand, where the knife strikes. There wasn't a cut on his hand.
Just as he thought. It looks like, since the Dark One has returned, magic has returned. It seems that he can do some basic defensive magic. He looks around and sees the dead bodies everywhere. He notices that the remaining lords are going into some kind of hidden warehouse. He goes inside and finds some seeing stones. He takes one then sits at the ruined table. The only thing he wanted right now was some kind of alcohol ...
"Oh gosh, I hope he isn't dead."
"Whatever. It's another body to send to his family."
"I don't think he's still alive."
Asad gets up, confused as to what happened.
"Ugh, what the hell happened?"
The other men look surprised, as though they had seen a ghost. One of them regains his composure and answers Asad.
"Looks like you got knocked out by some debris".
The last thing Asad remembers was the Assembly was crumbling. He also felt a golden aura around his body ...
"Strike me."
"What?"
"Strike me with a knife."
"Wh--Why?"
"I've got a feeling that I have something within me ..."
The man strikes with the knife. A glowing aura forms around his hand, where the knife strikes. There wasn't a cut on his hand.
Just as he thought. It looks like, since the Dark One has returned, magic has returned. It seems that he can do some basic defensive magic. He looks around and sees the dead bodies everywhere. He notices that the remaining lords are going into some kind of hidden warehouse. He goes inside and finds some seeing stones. He takes one then sits at the ruined table. The only thing he wanted right now was some kind of alcohol ...
"DIE SCUM" Saladin, Sultan of Hroniden slashed the arm of another of the monsters that had invaded the room. The moment Mathlion had struck at what had been the Arcchmage, Saladin had moved unlike most of the Lords of Light who had stood rooted to the spot. Moving towards the door he had picked up the sword of a fallen Guardsmen before turning around and engaging the Monsters.
Another of the beasts came running at the Sultan however Saladin managed to smash it's face with the pommel of his sword before swinging back and cutting the beast clean in half. Seeing that the Lords were slowly being forced back Saladin ran towards Gerald of Westelli dispatching a serpent on the way.
"Commander, we must form a defense. We cannot hold much longer in any case but if we mean to bring as many with them as we can we should get into a better position."
"Agreed, see to it, I will slow them down."
Quickly Saladin moved back and began moving the remaining Lords into the corner of the room. Moving chairs to form a barricade the Lords had just managed to finish the barricade when Gerald's last companion fell. As the Dark Dragon prepared to charge the survivors Saladin shouted "Lords of Light, we will all die Today, but we will bring many of them with us. The Bards will sing of the Few who Stood and we will be remembered as heroes!" Just as Qylan began the charge the doors were blown open. Through the gap charged men of the City Watch. Stunned Saladin stood still for a few seconds. He had expected to die here.
Quickly regaining his composure Saladin leapt over the barricade and charged towards Gerald who was on the point of being overwhelmed. Charging into the Monsters he managed to reach Gerald. Fighting back to back the Sultan of Hroniden and the Commander of the Golden Army managed to hold off the attackers for a while. When they were on the point of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers the enemy suddenly withdrew back towards the Dragon and vanished.
Turning Saladin held out his hand to the Lord Commander. "Well fought friend"
Gerald took the Sultan's hand. "We got lucky."
Another of the beasts came running at the Sultan however Saladin managed to smash it's face with the pommel of his sword before swinging back and cutting the beast clean in half. Seeing that the Lords were slowly being forced back Saladin ran towards Gerald of Westelli dispatching a serpent on the way.
"Commander, we must form a defense. We cannot hold much longer in any case but if we mean to bring as many with them as we can we should get into a better position."
"Agreed, see to it, I will slow them down."
Quickly Saladin moved back and began moving the remaining Lords into the corner of the room. Moving chairs to form a barricade the Lords had just managed to finish the barricade when Gerald's last companion fell. As the Dark Dragon prepared to charge the survivors Saladin shouted "Lords of Light, we will all die Today, but we will bring many of them with us. The Bards will sing of the Few who Stood and we will be remembered as heroes!" Just as Qylan began the charge the doors were blown open. Through the gap charged men of the City Watch. Stunned Saladin stood still for a few seconds. He had expected to die here.
Quickly regaining his composure Saladin leapt over the barricade and charged towards Gerald who was on the point of being overwhelmed. Charging into the Monsters he managed to reach Gerald. Fighting back to back the Sultan of Hroniden and the Commander of the Golden Army managed to hold off the attackers for a while. When they were on the point of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers the enemy suddenly withdrew back towards the Dragon and vanished.
Turning Saladin held out his hand to the Lord Commander. "Well fought friend"
Gerald took the Sultan's hand. "We got lucky."
The turmoil eventually calmed down. Ivar found Von Knapsen lying on the ground, at least what was left of him. Carrying his bones he went forward to what was left of the Three Rivers embassy and pledged to them to allow him to perform the Ceremony of the Dead.
Maybe they were in shock and did not understand but yet they agreed. Then Ivar started his long journey carrying the bones back to the champions family. Constantly praying to the Unnamed one.
Maybe they were in shock and did not understand but yet they agreed. Then Ivar started his long journey carrying the bones back to the champions family. Constantly praying to the Unnamed one.
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The room lay in ruins. Parts of the ceiling had collapsed, scorches were across the floor, and the chairs lay in pieces. Then their were the bodies. Lots, and lots of bodies. Asharian knew most of the bodies. One of the bodies was his friend, and mentor, Gunther. Also, a person Asharian greatly respected, Armas also lay dead. Despite this, Asharian was not sad. He was not depressed, he wasn't even angry. He was confused. The only thing going threw his mind was, "What is next". This was not a question he could answer. The Lords of Light lay dead, the Assembly disbanded. He did not know what to do, but he would find out.
Asharian stood on the balcony of his manor. Is brother Atarian stood behind him. "What are you going to do, brother?"
"I don't know. I don't know what I can do."
"Well, you can fight back. Find someway to hit back at the ArchMage, and his Dark master. Fight back!" Atarian replied.
"Yes, but how?"
"I don't know."
It was then, looking over the sea that Asharian remembered something.
"Agorath is not alone. Us Krestarii came from somewhere. Lets find where." Asharian replied with a bit of optimism.
"How do we find "where"?"
"We have maps. Besides, it must be to the East, only darkness lies in the West. We must go East."
"Well, I will send a message to Azeratii. Jutarian can get dispatch ships." Replied Atarian.
"Furthermore, the Lords need to plan our next move. I will call for a conference. Lets see what happens."
The Krestarii are launching a diplomatic mission to find their homeland.
The Krestarii also call for a conference in Azeratii City to plan the next move of the light
Asharian stood on the balcony of his manor. Is brother Atarian stood behind him. "What are you going to do, brother?"
"I don't know. I don't know what I can do."
"Well, you can fight back. Find someway to hit back at the ArchMage, and his Dark master. Fight back!" Atarian replied.
"Yes, but how?"
"I don't know."
It was then, looking over the sea that Asharian remembered something.
"Agorath is not alone. Us Krestarii came from somewhere. Lets find where." Asharian replied with a bit of optimism.
"How do we find "where"?"
"We have maps. Besides, it must be to the East, only darkness lies in the West. We must go East."
"Well, I will send a message to Azeratii. Jutarian can get dispatch ships." Replied Atarian.
"Furthermore, the Lords need to plan our next move. I will call for a conference. Lets see what happens."
The Krestarii are launching a diplomatic mission to find their homeland.
The Krestarii also call for a conference in Azeratii City to plan the next move of the light
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"Ser! Ser!" cried a messenger
"Yes, yes, what have you?" responded Matthew
"Many things, ser" responded hastily by the messenger, apparently sent by Gerrard of Westelli
After that, he told of the dragons that invaded the Golden City, of Archmage Qylan's turning, as well with some other lords of "light" turning to the wrong path, the dark.
"So, did Willy flop or so?"
"Well ser, Gerrard said to me that he saw William perform light magics and..."
"What! Well, can't say it must've been useful."
"I think these were his last words, according to Gerrard
'per Eccesasties, et per lucem, we all believe in the true power of the light; and know that we all have been given the holy sacraments of absolution. Light bless all"
and after that, I think he was killed" chronicled the messenger
"Wow..... You did good Willy, you did good"
"Ser" cried a sweet voice
"Aren't you..." Matthew, astounded responded
"Yes. I am William Burnside's daughter, and I must say that he also taught me how to wield light magics" said William Burnside's daughter, Karen Burnside
"By god! You I guess, will take over William's place in court, I suppose. I hope you will live up to your father's legacy"
"Of course, lord"
and with that, Matthew started to make preparations for war, a war to settle the fate of Agorath.
A few days after, through a seeing stone found in a passage by the assembly,
"Lord Asharian, moving immediately against their homeland, nor crossing the dangerous wilds, may be not a prudent decision right now. I believe that we should rally the now leaderless armies of Ra'Gu and Zepher as well as the scattered Golden Army to secure our position from any attacks by the vile dark."
"The Light Basin also, should be cleansed of the vile darkness, and I believe William Burnside's successor will prove very helpful if we choose to endeavor this. I will also attempt to attend the conference proposed."
Matthew proposes a diplomatic mission to rally the scattered armies of the Golden City, and the armies of Ra'Gu and Zepher.
"Yes, yes, what have you?" responded Matthew
"Many things, ser" responded hastily by the messenger, apparently sent by Gerrard of Westelli
After that, he told of the dragons that invaded the Golden City, of Archmage Qylan's turning, as well with some other lords of "light" turning to the wrong path, the dark.
"So, did Willy flop or so?"
"Well ser, Gerrard said to me that he saw William perform light magics and..."
"What! Well, can't say it must've been useful."
"I think these were his last words, according to Gerrard
'per Eccesasties, et per lucem, we all believe in the true power of the light; and know that we all have been given the holy sacraments of absolution. Light bless all"
and after that, I think he was killed" chronicled the messenger
"Wow..... You did good Willy, you did good"
"Ser" cried a sweet voice
"Aren't you..." Matthew, astounded responded
"Yes. I am William Burnside's daughter, and I must say that he also taught me how to wield light magics" said William Burnside's daughter, Karen Burnside
"By god! You I guess, will take over William's place in court, I suppose. I hope you will live up to your father's legacy"
"Of course, lord"
and with that, Matthew started to make preparations for war, a war to settle the fate of Agorath.
A few days after, through a seeing stone found in a passage by the assembly,
"Lord Asharian, moving immediately against their homeland, nor crossing the dangerous wilds, may be not a prudent decision right now. I believe that we should rally the now leaderless armies of Ra'Gu and Zepher as well as the scattered Golden Army to secure our position from any attacks by the vile dark."
"The Light Basin also, should be cleansed of the vile darkness, and I believe William Burnside's successor will prove very helpful if we choose to endeavor this. I will also attempt to attend the conference proposed."
Matthew proposes a diplomatic mission to rally the scattered armies of the Golden City, and the armies of Ra'Gu and Zepher.
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It is in the office of the castle that one finds Justiinus Celestian, the Duke of Three Rivers. He is reading a letter brought to him by messenger bird, containing details about the events at the Assembly. Yet another champion dead, but fortunately not as upsetting as the loss of his beloved sister, but also one of his best and most valuable friends, Perseus Laecus had met his demise. As he continues reading, his fist clenches around the letter, as he grows more angry.
"So Qylan did reveal himself? And Ra'Gru joined him together the dynasty of Elves that caused the death of my sister?" he asks, questions which are not answered by his advisors, who has not yet read the letter. In fact these advisors all inches a bit away from him, as the duke seems to glow slightly, a pale white aura forming around him, something which he has not yet discovered.
"No matter, they forfeit their life the moment they betrayed the light, when they betrayed the soul of Agorath. But at least it seems like Perseus was able to stab that doublecrossing foul ill-mannered beast that calls itself Ra'Gru, but somehow the Dark had fortified it." Still no answer from the advisors, who looks more ready to run away, as the glow increases.
It is at this point, as Justinus turns to his advisors, only to then discover how he himself appear to be lightening up the room. He takes a few deep breaths, and the glow slowly disappears.
"Strange. This has never happened to me before. So the rumours are true, magic is slowly becoming stronger? Nevermind, I shall deal with this later." he comments, once again to himself.
"Back to the matter at hand. Send for the commanders. We will march into that basin and force back the darkness. And it will have to be so hard that the Dark One will never even consider returning to Agorath. And send all our information on the elven and orc lieutenants to the Golden City, maybe some of those can use that information to convince some of the fallen armies to return to the light. Just because their leader has committed treason, they are not necessarily all supporters of the Dark. And with that information, ask if any of them can share some agents willing to go into the Fallen Provinces to investigate more, hopefully gaining more information about the location of the fallen. And propose that the traitors be stripped officially of all lands and all titles, their names to be forever remembered in infamy."
Three Rivers sends military to clear the light basin
Three Rivers supports efforts to turn some of the traitor armies back to the Light
Three Rivers sends 'investigators' to the fallen provinces to find out more about and asks for support
Three Rivers proposes to strip Ra'Gru, Zephren and Qylan of all official titles
"So Qylan did reveal himself? And Ra'Gru joined him together the dynasty of Elves that caused the death of my sister?" he asks, questions which are not answered by his advisors, who has not yet read the letter. In fact these advisors all inches a bit away from him, as the duke seems to glow slightly, a pale white aura forming around him, something which he has not yet discovered.
"No matter, they forfeit their life the moment they betrayed the light, when they betrayed the soul of Agorath. But at least it seems like Perseus was able to stab that doublecrossing foul ill-mannered beast that calls itself Ra'Gru, but somehow the Dark had fortified it." Still no answer from the advisors, who looks more ready to run away, as the glow increases.
It is at this point, as Justinus turns to his advisors, only to then discover how he himself appear to be lightening up the room. He takes a few deep breaths, and the glow slowly disappears.
"Strange. This has never happened to me before. So the rumours are true, magic is slowly becoming stronger? Nevermind, I shall deal with this later." he comments, once again to himself.
"Back to the matter at hand. Send for the commanders. We will march into that basin and force back the darkness. And it will have to be so hard that the Dark One will never even consider returning to Agorath. And send all our information on the elven and orc lieutenants to the Golden City, maybe some of those can use that information to convince some of the fallen armies to return to the light. Just because their leader has committed treason, they are not necessarily all supporters of the Dark. And with that information, ask if any of them can share some agents willing to go into the Fallen Provinces to investigate more, hopefully gaining more information about the location of the fallen. And propose that the traitors be stripped officially of all lands and all titles, their names to be forever remembered in infamy."
Three Rivers sends military to clear the light basin
Three Rivers supports efforts to turn some of the traitor armies back to the Light
Three Rivers sends 'investigators' to the fallen provinces to find out more about and asks for support
Three Rivers proposes to strip Ra'Gru, Zephren and Qylan of all official titles
Report on Damage in the Golden City
Caused by the Treachery of Qylan The Houseless, Ra'Gru of Goi'Orka, and Zephfer of Huaindren
By
Gerald Westelli
Lord-Commander of the City Watch
During the Assembly of First Seed, after being joined by the traitors Qylan, Ra'Gru and Zephfer, the City became assaulted by half a dozen fire dragons, looking to be of Highathar origin.
Extensive damage was done to the Imperial Palace, the wall fortresses and the Imperial Barracks. The Golden Army, in it's fight to protect the city, suffered considerable losses and will need time to regroup and retrain.
I, Lord-Commander of the City Watch, after the death of Mathlion of Hwicce, may the Light keep him, am now the senior Lord of the Golden City. My first action is to propose a interim council established to rule the city, made up of the Lords of Light and their representatives. All Lords will retain their property and hold authority over their respective districts.
Furthermore, the Seeing Stones recovered in the ruins of the Assembly shall be handed out to each Lord of Light.
Caused by the Treachery of Qylan The Houseless, Ra'Gru of Goi'Orka, and Zephfer of Huaindren
By
Gerald Westelli
Lord-Commander of the City Watch
During the Assembly of First Seed, after being joined by the traitors Qylan, Ra'Gru and Zephfer, the City became assaulted by half a dozen fire dragons, looking to be of Highathar origin.
Extensive damage was done to the Imperial Palace, the wall fortresses and the Imperial Barracks. The Golden Army, in it's fight to protect the city, suffered considerable losses and will need time to regroup and retrain.
I, Lord-Commander of the City Watch, after the death of Mathlion of Hwicce, may the Light keep him, am now the senior Lord of the Golden City. My first action is to propose a interim council established to rule the city, made up of the Lords of Light and their representatives. All Lords will retain their property and hold authority over their respective districts.
Furthermore, the Seeing Stones recovered in the ruins of the Assembly shall be handed out to each Lord of Light.
The Black Island
One of the many shrines in Drearagheur, The Black Island
Shrine
25 Chests of Gold
Dark Lord
A place upon the Isle where Dark Acolytes will worship Dark Lords. Worshipers will bolster the power of the Lord and allow an additional 500 Troops join their army.
Temple
50 Chests of Gold
Dark Lord
The simple shrine has been upgraded to temple, housing the Acolytes and enshrined statues of the Dark Lord. An additional 1000 Troops will join the army of their Lord.
Fortified Temple
100 Chests of Gold
Insidious Demon-Lord
Your place of worship has been built upon to include a barracks and tower. Strange pulses of Light can be seen across the West where your Acolytes practice magic. An additional 1500 Troops will join your army.
Dark Castle
200 Chests of Gold
Dark-God
Your followers have built a great cathedral, complete with barracks, towers and high walls in your honour. An entire city has been built to house your many followers. An additional 2000 Troops will join your army.
One of the many shrines in Drearagheur, The Black Island
Shrine
25 Chests of Gold
Dark Lord
A place upon the Isle where Dark Acolytes will worship Dark Lords. Worshipers will bolster the power of the Lord and allow an additional 500 Troops join their army.
Temple
50 Chests of Gold
Dark Lord
The simple shrine has been upgraded to temple, housing the Acolytes and enshrined statues of the Dark Lord. An additional 1000 Troops will join the army of their Lord.
Fortified Temple
100 Chests of Gold
Insidious Demon-Lord
Your place of worship has been built upon to include a barracks and tower. Strange pulses of Light can be seen across the West where your Acolytes practice magic. An additional 1500 Troops will join your army.
Dark Castle
200 Chests of Gold
Dark-God
Your followers have built a great cathedral, complete with barracks, towers and high walls in your honour. An entire city has been built to house your many followers. An additional 2000 Troops will join your army.
((Dark Players that already had holding in the GC will have their estates converted to the equivalent on the Black Island for free))
(Deadline for this turn will be this Sunday, around 6pm Eastern. Dark Players, must still post diplomatic orders in the thread just as light players - though its assumed that your orders may be of a more insidious nature. I will have some Dark NPCs posted soon so you guys can interact with more characters. You may choose a new province in the West to rule from, but your exact location will not be known by the Lords of Light.
As we are entering the next Act of the game, and there will be a bit of a calm before the storm scenario - this is the perfect opportunity for new players to join the Light or Dark! ))
As we are entering the next Act of the game, and there will be a bit of a calm before the storm scenario - this is the perfect opportunity for new players to join the Light or Dark! ))
As the ceiling began to crumble, Deagrin Wrothiron hurled himself forward. He wasn't trying to seek cover. He had no expectation of leaving this room alive. Hi one ambition now was to get his hands around the throat of an enemy before he died.
He knew just which neck he wanted to throttle. He was not so foolish as to waste his last effort attacking an avatar of the Dark One with nothing but his fists. But he was not going to be satisfied with killing common minions either. Only a Lord would do. Ra'Gru had been his neighbor, but he was only an Orc reverting to type. The anger he felt toward him was nothing compared to Zephfyr.
His youngest son, bold, strong Gilthammer, had descended into the darkness on that elf's word. Either he had deliberately led him to his ruin, or he was weak and betrayed his sacrifice by turning. Either way, Wrothiron would not suffer him to leave unscathed. He would choke the life from the dark elf if he could, or at least give him some shattered bones to remember the House of Deagrin.
Monstrous shapes fell from above to block his way. Wrothiron didn't care. He plowed into them, bowling them over with the sheer force of his charge. When his way was checked before he could reach Zephfyr, he vented his fury on the minions. He grasped heads in his hands and wrenched them backwards till their spines snapped. He plunged his mailed thumbs through yellow eyes. His heart leapt at the crunching sound of bone beneath his fists, his feet, his elbows. He rejoiced at the wet snap of the enemies face as he drove his crowned head into it. His foes blood and his own dripped into his good eye, blurring his sight. It did not matter, he could not miss an enemy in such abundance. He snapped a twisted spine off a dead monstrosities back, and plunged it into the vague mass. The wet shriek filled him with joy.
In the true berserker rage, a dwarf becomes briefly immune to pain, not being aware of the enemy's strikes until it passes. That is not what Wrothiron felt in this moment. He felt every slash and bite. He was aware of every pain from every wound he'd ever suffered in his long, violent life. He simply did not care. It did not matter. All that mattered was the enemy in front of him, and the few more feet between him and the elf he meant to die killing.
There was a flash of light and the sound of war cries. He recognized in them his own sworn shields. When he realized rescue was upon him, he despaired. He did not crave his tomb. But in his heart the certainty bloomed that his opportunity had passed. As his own guard slashed and crushed their way through the press towards him, his fear became real. His target turned to black vapor. In frustration he hurled a chunk of debris at the cloud. It passed through what had been Zephfyr shattering against the far wall.
His guard surrounded him, forming a wall of shields and axes. Wrothiron fell to his knees, wailing in frustration and grief.
***
Wrothiron spent the next days secluded in his manor. His physicians fretted over his wounds, setting bones and suturing cuts. He did not sleep until they pressed a sleeping tonic upon him.
On the third day he went forth from his manor. At the insistence of his doctors, he did not burden himself with his gilded mail, relying instead upon his guards. He received from the watch commander the seeing stone, which he regarded dubiously. It would be useful no doubt, but it was a thing of magic. It seems to him that all this woe and doubt came from such powers in the first place. He used it reluctantly, hearing the call for a council in Azeratii City.
"What need is there of Council? There is only one course now. Destroy the enemy. Everything else is detail work. In any case, Azerati is in the wrong direction. My path leads one way, back to my own city.
To speak my part here in the city, I shall leave one of my Sworn Shields and advisors, Urist Bronzefinger."
He knew just which neck he wanted to throttle. He was not so foolish as to waste his last effort attacking an avatar of the Dark One with nothing but his fists. But he was not going to be satisfied with killing common minions either. Only a Lord would do. Ra'Gru had been his neighbor, but he was only an Orc reverting to type. The anger he felt toward him was nothing compared to Zephfyr.
His youngest son, bold, strong Gilthammer, had descended into the darkness on that elf's word. Either he had deliberately led him to his ruin, or he was weak and betrayed his sacrifice by turning. Either way, Wrothiron would not suffer him to leave unscathed. He would choke the life from the dark elf if he could, or at least give him some shattered bones to remember the House of Deagrin.
Monstrous shapes fell from above to block his way. Wrothiron didn't care. He plowed into them, bowling them over with the sheer force of his charge. When his way was checked before he could reach Zephfyr, he vented his fury on the minions. He grasped heads in his hands and wrenched them backwards till their spines snapped. He plunged his mailed thumbs through yellow eyes. His heart leapt at the crunching sound of bone beneath his fists, his feet, his elbows. He rejoiced at the wet snap of the enemies face as he drove his crowned head into it. His foes blood and his own dripped into his good eye, blurring his sight. It did not matter, he could not miss an enemy in such abundance. He snapped a twisted spine off a dead monstrosities back, and plunged it into the vague mass. The wet shriek filled him with joy.
In the true berserker rage, a dwarf becomes briefly immune to pain, not being aware of the enemy's strikes until it passes. That is not what Wrothiron felt in this moment. He felt every slash and bite. He was aware of every pain from every wound he'd ever suffered in his long, violent life. He simply did not care. It did not matter. All that mattered was the enemy in front of him, and the few more feet between him and the elf he meant to die killing.
There was a flash of light and the sound of war cries. He recognized in them his own sworn shields. When he realized rescue was upon him, he despaired. He did not crave his tomb. But in his heart the certainty bloomed that his opportunity had passed. As his own guard slashed and crushed their way through the press towards him, his fear became real. His target turned to black vapor. In frustration he hurled a chunk of debris at the cloud. It passed through what had been Zephfyr shattering against the far wall.
His guard surrounded him, forming a wall of shields and axes. Wrothiron fell to his knees, wailing in frustration and grief.
***
Wrothiron spent the next days secluded in his manor. His physicians fretted over his wounds, setting bones and suturing cuts. He did not sleep until they pressed a sleeping tonic upon him.
On the third day he went forth from his manor. At the insistence of his doctors, he did not burden himself with his gilded mail, relying instead upon his guards. He received from the watch commander the seeing stone, which he regarded dubiously. It would be useful no doubt, but it was a thing of magic. It seems to him that all this woe and doubt came from such powers in the first place. He used it reluctantly, hearing the call for a council in Azeratii City.
"What need is there of Council? There is only one course now. Destroy the enemy. Everything else is detail work. In any case, Azerati is in the wrong direction. My path leads one way, back to my own city.
To speak my part here in the city, I shall leave one of my Sworn Shields and advisors, Urist Bronzefinger."
((It would be helpful to have an official list/map of whose army is where, and also whether or not the dark siders retain control over their old lands and troops))
Alfödr was sitting outside of his tent, watching his army preparing. Dark things were happening, he could feel it in his bones. He was polishing his frozen sword, his legacy. He got cold, his breath visible. He looked up and everything was frozen solid around him. It was a beautiful sight but at the same time menacing, his loyal housecarls as ice statues.
- "The final duty..." something dark moved in the corner of his eye, he tried to yell out but it was as if he's lips were frozen solid. He started moving out of the camp to where he saw the movement
- "Death..." The whisper was inside his head. "The cold kiss"
He were no longer in the forest, he was in the assembly seeing the horror of the twisted elf and his true form. Everything as well were frozen, both in ice and time. He was confused, walked around seamlessly until he saw the dark figure that had been haunting him...
It was no longer a dark figure, a nord man in dire wolf pelts and light blue skin was standing beside Qylan admiring the abomination. He looked over to the Jarl with a smile, a warm feeling started to fill him. No words were spoken, but Alfödr knew who the man was, somehow he knew his name but unable to grasp it in his thoughts. The man looked back to the elf and touched him, slowly starting to thaw, waking to life again. The angry abomination roared, showed his teeth and charged at him. Alfödr put up his hands in the way in an attempt to defend himself... it got cold, very cold....
When he opened his eyes he had awoken and was at the edge of the camp. One of the scouts had been trying to wake him up, the Jarl's frozen hands almost shining in azure color were on the poor boys throat, the boy suffering severely from instant frost bite. For a moment, everything he touched died and froze, as if the life's flame in it disappeared...
As they walked back to the camp he was exhausted and helped by his housecarls to walk. But in the distance he could see the figure watching them and he heard it clear as day.
- "Save my children from eternal damnation, give them the right of the final journey..."
- "The final duty..." something dark moved in the corner of his eye, he tried to yell out but it was as if he's lips were frozen solid. He started moving out of the camp to where he saw the movement
- "Death..." The whisper was inside his head. "The cold kiss"
He were no longer in the forest, he was in the assembly seeing the horror of the twisted elf and his true form. Everything as well were frozen, both in ice and time. He was confused, walked around seamlessly until he saw the dark figure that had been haunting him...
It was no longer a dark figure, a nord man in dire wolf pelts and light blue skin was standing beside Qylan admiring the abomination. He looked over to the Jarl with a smile, a warm feeling started to fill him. No words were spoken, but Alfödr knew who the man was, somehow he knew his name but unable to grasp it in his thoughts. The man looked back to the elf and touched him, slowly starting to thaw, waking to life again. The angry abomination roared, showed his teeth and charged at him. Alfödr put up his hands in the way in an attempt to defend himself... it got cold, very cold....
When he opened his eyes he had awoken and was at the edge of the camp. One of the scouts had been trying to wake him up, the Jarl's frozen hands almost shining in azure color were on the poor boys throat, the boy suffering severely from instant frost bite. For a moment, everything he touched died and froze, as if the life's flame in it disappeared...
As they walked back to the camp he was exhausted and helped by his housecarls to walk. But in the distance he could see the figure watching them and he heard it clear as day.
- "Save my children from eternal damnation, give them the right of the final journey..."
Updated the roster.
The followers of Dark will rule over new provinces in the west, however, they still control their armies for right now. diplomatic mission to send messages of their ruler's treachery could be pursued.
Dark players, PM me where you would like your new province to be along with your war orders
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